Enigma
by MegaNerdAlert
Summary: Minerva finds out that her former student, Hermione Granger, has been 'getting around' quite a bit over the last ten years. She desperately wants to know what changed the sweet, pure girl she knew into the sexually loose woman she's become. If she's lucky, she'll be able to heal the hurt that has driven Hermione this far.


**Yup, still being ignored by 'my Minerva', so here is another angsty oneshot, as I continue to make pathetic attempts at cope. Somebody just fucking shoot me. *downs another shot of whiskey* **

* * *

It was compelling. A quandary. An enigma. Or, more accurately, _she_ was. Hermione Granger was. For the life of her, Minerva could not figure her former student out. It had been ten years since the young woman had graduated, and at least half that many years since they'd had a conversation. Of course, Minerva had run into the brains of the Golden Trio a few times over the last decade, but it would nearly always an awkward greeting, followed by and awkward farewell, and then they parted ways again. Minerva had been more or less content with that being the extent of her relationship with Hermione, at least until six months ago when she'd gone out for a drink with Rolanda Hooch. The Quidditch Coach could not hold liquor to save her life, and so when Minerva inquired about her personal life, the answer she got was one she had most certainly not been expecting.

"_I fucked Hermione Granger a couple weekends back," _Rolanda had said with a goofy grin. _"What a lay! I don't expect anything to come of it. Granger made it clear enough that she was not interested in more than a hook up, but still…"_

Minerva had been floored at the notion that her former student would ever treat sex so casually. Hermione was not the player type, nor was she a slut. She'd been the very model of proper and ladylike for all the years she'd been at Hogwarts. At first, she'd been inclined to assume that Hermione had just been having a bad day, needed to get laid, and Rolanda happened to be available and willing to fit that role. Her hopes that Hermione's behavior was a one-off fluke were unceremoniously dashed the following day when she'd been bouncing her thoughts about the situation off of Albus, and quite suddenly Severus Snape started laughing. The shock of him actually laughing was nothing on what she felt regarding his explanation.

"_I fucked her too," _Severus admitted. _"The night before I killed Albus, actually. She was good – I couldn't have been her first. I would be very curious as to how much she has gotten around."_

Severus' curiosity mirrored Minerva's own, and so for the next several months, she'd had more Slytherin like conversations than ever before as she inquired around at who else might have had a relationship with Hermione Granger.

Her first, it turned out, had been Molly Weasley, during Christmas break of her fifth year. Other than Severus, it seemed that Hermione had slept with Arura Sinistra and Fleur Delecour, neè Weasley, during her sixth year. The year Hermione and the boys were on the run, she'd had a three some with both Fleur and Bill Weasley.

In the years that followed, to the present, Minerva found that Hermione had been with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Andromeda Tonks, Xeno Lovegood, Amos Diggory, Irma Prince, Petunia Dursley, the bloody muggle, as well as Rolanda, and Rosmerta down at the Three Broomsticks, and perhaps the most surprising, with Narcissa Malfoy quite a few times, if her son Draco's drunken account was anything to go by. All of them claimed to be wooed by the younger woman, to the point of sleeping together, and then she would vanish from their lives as if it was nothing.

Minerva was fairly certain that the list she'd collected in the last six months was far from complete, but she found that she couldn't stand to search for more. She had a whole list of people who she had called friends, colleagues, or associates for years and years, who she was now have difficulty looking in the eye. It wasn't because of what they'd done – taking to bed a much younger woman without so much as an _oopsie_ – but rather because of _who_ they'd done. Her best kept secret was certainly kept, but she now wanted to hex the living shite out of most of her friends because they had taken to bed the woman she'd been in love with since she saw her walking down the stairs at the Yule Ball.

As Minerva curled up on her bed and cried herself to sleep, she begged the gods to tell her why Hermione was letting herself be used like this, and for the love of Merlin if she was going to go around seducing older wizards and witches, why wouldn't she come to the one of them who wanted it to be more than a casual lay? "Why, Hermione?" she screamed into her pillow.

* * *

Harry had mentioned that his Uncle, Vernon Dursley, was out of town for business this weekend, and so Hermione Granger had ventured down to Surry to see the willowy woman that he called _wife_. She knocked on the door and waited patiently.

"Hello, Petunia," she greeted when said woman answered the door with a smile. "As you went out of your way to mention to the nephew you hardly speak to that your dolt of a husband is out of town, am I to gather that you wished to see me?"

Petunia nodded. "Come in, Hermione. I didn't know if it would work, and didn't want to change trying to Owl you and God knows in your world finding out about…"

"You know my policy, kitty," Hermione said. "You don't tell, I don't tell."

_Kitty. _That's what she called all her female lovers. She told them that it was a term of endearment meant to reflect how much of a wildcat they were in bed, but in reality, it had more to do with a universal name so she didn't have to remember who she was having sex with at that moment, and in the same stroke she could pretend to be calling out for the one witch she actually wanted.

Kitty. A grey animagis. A school she hadn't been to in ten years now. A teacher she'd fallen in love with. Minerva bloody McGonagall.

Hermione's virginity had gone to Molly Weasley, of all people. Her husband had been nearly killed, it was Christmas, and she had told Hermione that she was lonely, and asked her to stay up late one evening and drink a cup of tea. By then, Hermione had been head over heals for Minerva, and told Molly that she too was lonely. While Minerva seemed totally oblivious when she dropped hints of her affections, Molly had read right into it. Turns out that the red haired woman was bisexual, and in a moment of stupidity, Hermione had fucked her best friend's mother on her single bed, in her room at Headquarters. She had Molly had talked briefly after, agreeing that it could never be spoken of, or happen again. It wasn't love. It wasn't worth the risk, though it had certainly been enjoyable.

After that, Hermione had found herself feeling like a walking hormone; Minerva still paid no attention to her outside of class or class related conversation, and so the then seventeen year old had decided that if she couldn't have the teacher she _wanted_, she'd get another. Sinistra had taken four months to seduce,though in defense of Hermione's seduction skills, the woman was supposedly straight, and Hermione was still fine tuning the art of flirting. Oh yes, it was an art.

Towards the end of the school year, Hermione had decided to challenge herself – to see if she could get a man. She knew she could have Horace Slughorn in her bed, the perv, in a matter of days, but she wanted it to be harder than that. If there was one thing she'd learned about herself while seducing Sinistra, it was that she loved the chase. It was absolutely erotic. So, Hermione picked the one man in Hogwarts who she thought would be the most difficult to get – Severus Snape.

The poor bastard only lasted two weeks before caving to her stolen glances, and how she'd catch his gaze and lick her lip slowly, making him wonder what she was thinking of; what she wanted to taste. Once she had him looking flushed every time she walked into his classroom, she'd stayed after class on Friday. The response he got to _"What do you want, Miss Granger?"_ in his normal, annoyed tone, was everything except the respectful and timid student he was used to.

"_Fuck me,"_ she had demanded. _"I know you want to. I'm already dripping cum down my leg just thinking about…" _

She'd cupped his already hardening member with her hand._ "…your big, hard…cock."_

Yes, that had done it. Severus had been a good partner, certainly the best among the men she'd been with since then, but she still found she preferred women. She preferred Minerva. But, as Minerva still seemed not to give a flying fuck about her beyond academia, she'd have to satiate the ever burning need with Petunia.

* * *

Minerva took a deep breath as she knocked on the door of Malfoy Manor. The overwhelming need to understand why the woman she loved was behaving like a common whore had driven her to swallowing her pride and having a conversation with the one woman who Hermione reportedly saw on a semi-regular basis. She knew that she'd have a better shot of getting real answers from one of Hermione's peers, but she could not bring herself – she laughed at the thought – to talk to the likes of Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley about their best friend's sex life.

A house elf answered the door. "Cans I help yous?"

"I would like to see Lady Malfoy," Minerva stated. "Is she in?"

The ragged looking creature nodded, and opened the door further to allow her entry. "Remains here. I will goes and sees if she will meet with yous."

The Headmistress of Hogwarts nodded curtly, and stood in the foyer why the house elf went to fetch his mistress. Before long, the tall, elegant wife of the now incarcerated Lucius Malfoy came walking toward her. "Professor McGonagall, what a surprise," she greeted. "To what to I owe the pleasure?"

Minerva shifted uncomfortably, and sighed. "I'd like to talk to you about Hermione Granger."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows, and looked at the green eyed witch suspiciously. "What about her?"

"Look, Mrs. Malfoy – Narcissa – I spoke with your son a few months ago, and he told me that you have an on again, off again relationship with her…"

The blond woman smirked, and waved Minerva to follow her to the adjoining tea room. "I wouldn't go as far as calling it a relationship. And I know I'm not the only one. Hermione…gets around, I believe is the term. So why are you here talking to _me_, of all people. And more importantly, why are you so interested in Hermione's sex life anyway?"

Minerva took a seat on a comfortable arm chair before answering. "If my research is accurate, then you are the only one she sees regularly. And I'm not interested…I'm concerned."

"Not the only one," Narcissa shrugged. "Though certainly one of the few. Finding lovers who share a desire for nothing beyond a casual relationship are few and far between. She also sees Petunia Dursley quite a bit."

Minerva wrinkled her nose.

"Yes, I don't really get that one either," Narcissa laughed. "According to Hermione, Petunia might be uptight as the dickens to the public, but in private she is quite the kinky one."

"I see."

"So, Minerva," the younger witch said, leaning back into her own chair. "Why the interest in Hermione's sex life? And let's be truthful this time, shall we?"

"I care for her," Minerva whispered, shocking herself for saying out loud what she had kept totally to herself for so many years. "I found out about her…exploits about six months ago when Rolanda Hooch got drunk and admitted to sleeping with her. I just…need to understand."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "I'll be god damned," she muttered. "_You_ love _her_?"

Minerva crossed her arms defensively. "What of it? I'm entitled to my feelings, aren't I?"

"Of course, Headmistress," the Lady of the Manor laughed. "Though Hermione is under the impression that you don't have any."

"Any what? Feelings?" the older witch snapped.

"More specifically, feelings for her," Narcissa said quietly. "Or so I suspect."

"What are you going on about?"

"She calls us _kitty_," came the reply.

"Us?" Minerva frowned.

"Her lovers. All of her female lovers. Don't know what she calls the men…" Narcissa shrugged. "I would venture to guess that she calls us that because it allows her to pretend we are someone else. Someone that she is in love with, but does not believe would be interested in her."

"She's shagged half the wizarding world!" Minerva exclaimed. "Who the bloody hell does she think is out of her reach?"

"You."

Minerva stared dumbly. "Whut?"

* * *

Hermione quietly closed the front door of muggle woman she'd just fucked. She knew the woman once – she'd been a teacher of hers in primary school, before she'd gone to Hogwarts – but the dark haired beauty had not recognized her when Hermione's picked her up at the local bar, a few hours ago.

"That didn't take very long," a voice said from the shadows.

It was dark; the only light coming from the streetlamps. There was no moon tonight. Hermione spun around, gripping her wand. "Show yourself!" she demanded.

"Calm down, Hermione," a female voice with a Scottish lilt replied. Minerva McGonagall stepped into the light, her own wand resting gently in her hand. "The war is over."

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said stiffly. _Oh, you have got to be kidding me._ "What are you doing here?"

"I've been following you around since you got off work this afternoon," Minerva confessed.

Hermione stared blankly at her former teacher. "Excuse me?"

"I had expected you to be a little longer with your latest…conquest," the older witch mused.

"I never stay the night," Hermione snapped. "And I'll take it that you've somehow found out the less than reputable truth about my personal life, and have come to lecture me on the wickedness of my ways."

Minerva tilted her head to the side. "No, I had not planned on it. I _could_, I suppose. Is that what you want from me?"

"No," Hermione quickly snapped. "What do you want, McGonagall? You wouldn't stalk me all day without a good reason."

The Scottish witch's temper surfaced as the rude addressment. "My name is _Minerva_." She snapped. "And what I want is your god damned honesty. For you to not be assumptive for the next ten years! For you to realize that you are better than a string of one night stands! For, if Narcissa was correct, the one you really want has been yours for a long, long time…"

Hermione's wand clattered to the ground. Was Minerva saying what she _thought_ she was saying? "Mi-Mi-Minerva?"

"I knew you had a crush on me during your fifth year at Hogwarts," the older witch whispered, stepping closer to Hermione. "I felt the same, but you were still underage, so out of respect for you, and for your future, I kept a distance. By the next fall, when you turned seventeen, you'd distanced yourself from _me_, and I concluded that your feelings had been…a simply crush, and that it had passed. I respected you too much to try and sway you back towards me. The rest is history."

Hermione's hand shook as it moved toward Minerva's cheek, steadying when the older witch didn't flinch at the contact, but rather nuzzled her face into Hermione's palm and sighed. "I don't know what to say…"

"I don't want to be your next conquest, Hermione," Minerva said, resting her hands on the younger woman's waist and pulling her a bit closer. "If I take you home, I want you to stay the night. I want you to stay the next day, and the next week, and the next month…"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Hermione croaked. "If you let me love you once, you will have to kill me to get me to stop. If you take me home, I will stay forever."

It seemed that was what Minerva needed to hear, because the next second Hermione was pulled forward the rest of the way into mind blowing kiss – a kiss to end all kisses, a love to end all loves, and a story that began as an enigma in each of their minds suddenly seemed perfectly clear.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed...please review!**


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